Ruins: An Epilogue
by allurascastle
Summary: Years after the Fall of Thundera and events of Ruins We Call Home, life is beginning to find normalcy. The survivors are recovering and so is their home, and life is flourishing anew. This is an epilogue for my fanfic that I originally wrote in 2013 as "Mooncloudpanther," then began rewriting sometime in 2014. For those of you that read it, this piece is for you.
1. Lion-O and Pumilee

**As the summary says, this is an epilogue to Ruins We Call Home, which I wrote years ago, under Mooncloudpanther- and never finished and even deleted for a lot of reasons I'll get into in the end notes.**

**Edit: I owe AndrianaWarrior7 a shout out. I had _no idea_ any of you guys still remembered Pumilee, and the realisation some (or at least one of you) did is absolutely what inspired this!**

**Warnings for: nudity, vague mentions of sex ("pouncing"), pregnancy.**

* * *

Being king was busy work, and utterly exhausting. Lion-O could only imagine his schedule was made that much more taxing by the ramifications of Thundera's destruction years ago.

The social infrastructure and government had been wiped out, and now they had to pick up the pieces and make it _work, _somehow. It was only because of WilyKit and WilyKat the kingdom even had the funds to purchase or make the tools and supplies they needed in order to rebuild the cities. While funds, currently, were one less thing he didn't have to stress about, several other matters were thrust into his attention, constantly.

"Lion-O, at least _try _to relax." Pumilee chided him gently from where she sat behind him, bracketing his body with her thighs. She continued kneading at his aching back, trying to rub out the knots. "You're undoing all my hard work."

"Sorry," Lion-O said for lack of anything else to say.

He wasn't going to burden her with the weight of his stress, she already did so much for him- and besides, even though she declined the title of queen, she was almost always there with him. She knew from her own experience what he was dealing with, and he had often used her as a muse to try and find solutions, some of which were creative and others were painfully simple and obvious.

An audible quiet settled over them, unspoken words they could both sense.

Lion-O closed his eyes instead, focusing on the feeling of her paws finding every point of tension on his expansive, muscular back. He couldn't help but moan as she rolled her thumb over a particularly large one plaguing his right shoulder blade. Encouraged by his noises, and aided by the hot water and steam surrounding them, she pressed the heel of her paw against it and zeroed in on it. "Ah- ah- ah, not so hard." he hissed.

"Sorry." He could tell she was determined now by the tone of her voice, how vividly he could imagine her brows furrowed together and the pursing of her lips, but she acquiesced and eased up on the pressure she applied. Her touch remained firm, but she was more careful now.

"You're spoiling me."

Pumilee paused for a brief moment. He heard her chortle quietly. _"No, _I'm taking care of you, silly. You do it too~"

There was still something unsaid, Lion-O could taste it when he opened his mouth to speak again- but it wasn't from him. He furrowed his brow, eyes still shut, and pondered for a moment. Pumilee didn't often hesitate to confide in him, but she did prefer to have sorted through her thoughts before she did so. Only when she couldn't make heads or tails of a situation did she consult him before she was 'ready.'

Lion-O appreciated her honesty regarding her desires and boundaries. It had taken time for them to get there, but they had.

During the couple of years after they defeated and banished Mumm-Ra once again, their relationship had grown tense and progressively more distant.

The title of queen, the expectations and arbitrary restrictions associated with it, had chafed her, badly. He knew now that it'd made her feel trapped, but at the time he'd been scared he would lose her; even run-ragged and overwhelmed with stress, he hadn't been oblivious to the rift slowly forming.

It was a little silly, looking back on it.

They were so young and inexperienced at being mates, and they had so much to learn about communication. The solution had been so simple and easy, and the relief when she finally told him and he listened- _gods, _they'd grown.

And there was no one he would have rather done so with. Affectionate warmth bloomed in his chest at the thought.

Lion-O trusted her not to stew in negative emotions now, to tell him when she was ready.

"Hm," she hummed, running her claws gently down his back to scout out other knots, "- where do you want me to focus now?"

"My left hip has been bothering me." he confessed.

Her paws trailed down and began searching for the source of pain. To make it easier and give her more access, he leaned forward; as soon as he did, she was able to find it. She showed little more mercy for it than his shoulder blade's, not wanting to hurt him a second time, even a little.

Lion-O moaned again, trailing off into a deep-throated hum.

Even with his eyes closed and Pumilee behind him, he could _see _her pleased smirk. "Sounds like I found a good spot~"

"Mmhmmn," he hummed in response.

For a several moments, she continued rubbing the spot, before pausing to knead at her paws and crack her knuckles. Then, she began to caress his back, gently carding her claws through his wet fur.

It tickled a little, he wouldn't lie.

"Mm, what's this for?" he asked, twisting his head to look at her. She had a 'lost in thought' expression on her features, all very relaxed except for the twinge of her brows occasionally drawing together; the smoothness made her look a little pouty. He raised a paw and rubbed at her knee to get her attention. "Shilling for your thoughts?"

Pumilee blinked at him as her reverie broke. Almost automatically, as though she hadn't really thought of her response, she said, "I'm pregnant."

It was Lion-O's turn to blink, taken aback.

In retrospect, he would be able to pinpoint the exact moment Pumilee's mind caught up with what she'd said, because very shortly afterwards, both of them just silently blinking at one another, her face started to burn red even through her fur and her gazed flicked to the side, fixing on a very interesting cluster of bubbly soap suds floating in the water. She shifted a little, uncomfortable- by his silent stare, or simply her realisation she said it like _that, _he wasn't sure.

It took almost a full minute for him to process her words. "Wh- ... is that why you lured me into the bath?" he asked a little helplessly.

Lion-O wasn't helpless nor had he been forced in here, she only had to entice him away from the mountain of paperwork and approvals and gaggle of appointed governors with the promise of hot water and getting some alone time together. And yes, he _had_ suspected she had an ulterior motive- pouncing him, maybe, if the hot water energised him- but he didn't really mind that.

Alone time was alone time, and they had not had much in the last few weeks, not even when they went to bed.

After all, he often stayed up late into the night, and she went to bed and woke up early. It was nice to be able to scoop her up into his arms and snuggle her when he was at his most exhausted. He always fell asleep within moments.

His mind continued racing a mile a minute.

What were the symptoms of pregnancy? Cheetara had been pregnant a couple years ago, she was... um, she got round.

Lion-O knew very little of her pregnancy, he realised. Tygra had mentioned something about her feet hurting and cravings...? Had Pumilee's feet been hurting lately? Any surprisingly strong cravings? He couldn't recall any such incidents, in fact she'd been struggling to eat the last-

_Oh. _

Nausea.

And she'd been napping, which he'd found somewhat surprising a couple days ago when he found her lounging stretched out on the couch in their antechamber, but at the same time- she did a lot.

Pumilee also woke up long before he did. He hated mornings.

In fact, if he remembered correctly, he had watched her a few ticks before carefully repositioning her so that he could take a nap with her on the couch.

So, those were out of the ordinary.

Lion-O's train of thought came to halt as he realised Pumilee was speaking. "-'t sure how to tell you..." she trailed off uncertainly, squirming a little.

"It's- I- um. 'I'm pregnant' is a strong contender. It's, uh, straight to the... point."

Pumilee blushed a little more, looking sheepish, but smiled smally, at him while tucking a strand of her mane behind her ear. If Lion-O didn't know better, he'd have said she chortled a little.

He turned to face her fully and grasped her paws, which had been floundering between fiddling with his fur and fidgeting with each other.

"Just, um. Give me a minute." he said, giving her a reassuring smile. "My brain's trying to..." he gestured a little, uselessly.

She nodded, playing instead with his claws.

It took him more than a minute before he was able to wrap his mind around the concept, and even then he wasn't sure he would claim it had fully sunk in.

"When, uh, did you find out...?" he asked, needing more information.

Pumilee thought about it for only a moment. "A few days ago now... I'd been waking up feeling nauseous all day for the last week." Lion-O hadn't noticed over very much, but Pumilee had some herbal remedies to help repress it, and there were no doubts in his mind she'd found reasonable justifications for pushing through it, and not bringing it up. Probably something about Lion-O having enough to handle as it was and not wanting to bother him.

_Pumilee..._ he thought, before stopping himself. She was still talking.

"Cheetara noticed, I suppose. You know her." Yes, yes Lion-O did. "She did some," Pumilee gestured vaguely, waggling her claws, "cleric magic."

_Cleric magic. _

Lion-O nodded, absorbing this new information.

"... apparently my really weird dreams lately," this she _had _mentioned, "and being _exhausted _are not just stress or being a workaholic."

"You aren't even that much of a workaholic."

Pumilee gave him an offended look.

"The Archon's nameday celebration."

"We were seventeen!" she protested. "And it was a _celebration. _It's not like there was much for us to do anyway..." the last sentence was muttered.

Lion-O laughed.

He still didn't know how or why Bengali knew about royal politics and its (bothersome) intricacies. Bengali wouldn't tell him.

"I love you." he said, grinning as the affectionate warmth in his chest blossomed.

Pumilee's gaze softened into a tender look. "I love you too."

He couldn't help but close the space between them to kiss her. She smiled into his kiss, lips plush and, he found, pliant when he deepened it.

She hummed a little before they parted.

Lion-O glanced down at her stomach. It was starting to sink in.

She was _pregnant, _carrying what would, in time, grow into a cub. _Their _cub.

He gently settled his paw over her stomach, startled not for the first time, at how easy it was to cover her belly. She was... so small, petite, if that was the correct way to describe it. Compared to him, at least. Carefully, he rubbed his thumb over her wet fur, able to somewhat feel her skin.

Pumilee tensed a little when he did so, sucking in her gut.

Lion-O glanced up, inspecting her expression. She seemed uncomfortable by the touch, but she wasn't scowling _or_ snarling at him.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, moving his hand away.

Pumilee shifted. "No, it's just... it's _weird. _I'm not used to being pregnant."

Lion-O laughed. "No? Not in three days?"

_"No."_ she pouted at him.

"Aww," he grinned at her silly-like. Since she had given permission, despite finding it odd, he tentatively replaced his paw on her belly and felt it a little.

How far along _was_ she? Her stomach felt firm- not muscular, but it wasn't quite as soft or plush as before. She made a noise of discomfort when he pressed against it. "Sorry," he said, easing the pressure applied. Lion-O supposed he _could _ask if she knew. "How, um..." he struggled for words.

_Smooth._

"Cheetara estimates around two months." Pumilee answers anyway, managing to understand him even when he isn't articulate.

"Two months? Really?"

Pumilee was quiet for a moment. "I brushed off a lot of symptoms. They didn't seem odd to me..."

_Or to me, _Lion-O thinks, before focusing his attention back onto her belly and the baby with a sense of awe. It must have shown on his face, because she gently trailed the backs of her claws down his cheek before cupping his jaw.

He flicked his eyes up in time to meet hers, before she leaned in to kiss him.

* * *

Their son, Claudius, was born seven and a half months later, favoring his father's appearance with strong influence from his mother.

His fur was cream colored with dark brown markings; his mane was a brilliant red with russet brown streaks on either side of his head, extending back along the crown of his head, as well through the center of his blaze- the very tips of his mane giving away to white frost.

From the very first day, he had his mother's golden eyes.

It was very difficult for Lion-O to say 'no' to those eyes, and Claudius figured this out alarmingly early.

It became a routine for them.

Claudius would wake Lion-O up every morning- and he did mean _every _morning; his son, unlike his mate, did not take vacations and could not be persuaded to stay in bed longer- and pout at him until he agreed to play with wherever he wanted and at whatever game he wanted.

Once Lion-O was awake, Pumilee would slip away to work.

When he was young, that was mostly reading books and playing with small toys with him or, rather, laying on the floor secretly napping lightly while Claudius crawled all over him. Occasionally it was wrestling, and as he got a little older, play-fighting with swords.

Lion-O was somehow always surprised when he, personally, came away from playtime feeling sore and a little bruised. Cubs lacked a lot of finesse and really did not hesitate to use their full one-hundred percent strength.

It didn't help that, around that time, Claudius was getting big.

Respect for Lion-O's sleep didn't exist until Claudius was around ten. By then, Lion-O was used to being awoken. He found that he missed it.

With Pumilee, he was practically an angel. Almost always so well behaved for her and easy to calm down. Lion-O would be lying if he said he weren't a little envious of that, but he also supposed she just had a way with cubs.

As well that it was often she who got awoken in middle of the night when he had a nightmare.

Many times, Lion-O had shambled into the room to find her snuggling their son. They looked... so cute and precious. He always had to stop, no matter how exhausted, to admire them.

She never let her mane get too much longer than her waist, and when she slept, she braided it. It was a loose, very flowing sort of braid. Very beautiful.

Their son liked to have bits of his own mane braided like that, too.

Claudius never bulked up in muscle or frame like his namesake.

* * *

**So, back in 2014/2015, I ended up in a bad social group outside of the Thundercats commune, and I was introduced to a lot critical rhetoric that, well, ruined my enjoyment in my writing (although, there was a lot about Ruins I ended up not liking, I won't lie. I wish I'd made different lore decisions, but I was young and having fun).**

**I've talked a bit about this issue on tumblr, and if you are curious to know more, you can head over to and send me an ask :)**


	2. Bengali

**I don't remember too much of Bengali's lore in Ruins, as I've had multiple iterations of it since- that said, I will try to keep him recognisable, but I'm taking liberties. This chapter is shorter, and for that I do apologise, but I wanted to avoid too much exposition.**

**Also to be noted: I cannot write children. I tried.**

* * *

The arrival of WilyCat and WilyCub was heralded only by the sound of their scampering, their kitten claws scraping against the polished stone floors, and a couple of giggles as they tried to sneak up on him- more specifically, as WilyCat tried to sneak up on him.

Bengali sighed internally.

Glancing up, he could see a small, bemused smile playing on his mother's features while she tried not to snicker about her grandson's less than optimal stealth tactics. She would probably get upset if he didn't play along as well.

_"Playing is how cubs learn," _and, _"It doesn't hurt to let them have fun."_

He thought it was also important to nudge them a little, in the right direction. Telling them he heard their giggles wouldn't put them put too much, would it?

Anyway, he didn't understand their fascination with sneaking up on _him._

Another giggle, and Bengali straightened and looked up, making a show of scanning his surroundings but evidently missing WilyCub's mop of blond mane that poked out from the doorway and WilyCat's various patches that weren't camouflaged. He heard them both gasp and inhale sharply, holding their breath now they realised their mistake.

"Did you hear something, Mother?" he asked.

"Nope." she answered, not even glancing up from her etchings she was working on. "Must have been the wind, little one."

Bengali nodded, as though that was a reasonable explanation- the things he did for cubs- and turned back to examining the blue-prints spread out on his workbench, weighted down by his hammer on one corner, tongs on another, a chisel on the third, and a small lump of raw ore on the fourth and final.

He should invest in some paperweights. He added that to his mental list of things to requisition.

WilyCat crept closer, apparently encouraged that Bengali had _definitely_ not seen or heard him. He was quieter and more careful this time, but he was a cub and only had so much finesse.

His twin was breathing shallowly, but audibly.

Finally, after a few more moments, WilyCat reached him. Bengali whipped around when he felt a small tug on his clothes, feigning a startled jump. "WilyCat!" he exclaimed, resting a hand over his heart. "You gave me a heart attack! When did you get in here?"

The two couldn't contain it. They both started giggling, although WilyCat beamed with pride and lifted his arms, indicating he wanted to be picked up.

After a close inspection of his fur, Bengali acquiesced.

What? Cubs could get into all sorts of things, and he didn't want to get dirtied.

"I got-uh, Unc-le Gali." he said proudly. "I sc-ared you."

"Yup." Bengali agreed.

"Look at m-y tooooth," WilyCat opened his mouth wide, poking at one. It wiggled and wobbled. With his paw still in his mouth, he added, "Iths loosh."

Bengali gave him a smile. "That's very nice, WilyCat."

* * *

"So... Bengali."

"Yes, Tygra?" Bengali continued to stare up at the starry night sky.

Tygra shifted, turning his head to look at him, and lifted a paw to gesture vaguely. "You and Pumyra..."

"What about us?" he asked warily. What he really meant was, _This again? _

At some point or another In the last couple of years, all of them had expressed concern about their relationship- but they didn't really understand.

Pumyra understood him better than anyone, and he her. She had died, and been resurrected as nothing but a vengeful vestige of the cat she'd been. He had been infected with a malevolent spirit that had hid itself so well he hadn't even realised it was there until it was gone.

That was neither of their faults. The experience had brought them together.

Lion-O, Tygra, and Cheetara had some difficulties separating the Pumyra of now, with the Pumyra that had betrayed them. They were always wary around her, if not distrustful.

Bengali liked to think the last four years had improved things.

"How are things between the two of you?" Tygra asked, adding, "Honestly."

"They're just fine. Why are you asking?"

Tygra shrugged. "WilyCat and WilyCub seem to think she's going to have a cub too."

Bengali snorted, a little amused by that. "Did you tell them it was Auntie Pumilee in the purple?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, we're not having one. She's not comfortable with cubs."

Tygra studied him for a moment, searching for something to suggest anything, Bengali supposed. "Is that... what you want?"

"I want to be with her. Having a cub has never been one of my priorities."

This was, apparently, the correct answer.

Tygra nodded, and changed the topic. Bengali puzzled over that bit of conversation until he was sufficiently distracted by their mother arriving.

Once she did, they both climbed to their feet and helped her set out the food on the small dining table arranged near the reservoir, idly talking and eating. It made her happy to have time to catch up with Tygra, who she'd never gotten to properly know as her son because of their father, but now had the opportunity to.

It also made her happy to see the two of them together, even if Bengali found it unbearably awkward at times- for twenty-two years, he'd had no idea he and Prince Tygra were related at all. The idea of having a brother, or sister, had never appealed to him, and even four years later it was still a strange concept.

He hardly _thought _of Tygra as his brother, let alone _twin _brother.

Tygra was Tygra, and Tygra's brother was Lion-O.

For the most part, Tygra seemed glad to have this time, and the two did most of the conversing with one another. They often mentioned him in their topics, trying to include him, but for the most part, Bengali was content to listen to them talk.

"- are precious," Balia smiled widely and affectionately. "They like to sneak up on Bengali."

"Is that what they were talking about yesterday?" Tygra asked, a bemused, lopsided grin on his features.

Bengali took another bite of his food. For a few moments, they were all quiet while they ate. "Dinner is wonderful as always, Mother." _'__As always' _was a bit of a white lie. Foods fell into two categories with his mother: foods she could cook well and foods she could not cook.

The foods she could not cook were numerous, and those that she could were selective.

"Yes, it's delicious." Tygra agreed quickly.

Their mother smiled, pleased. "I'm glad the two of you are enjoying it."

* * *

Just as Bengali thought the weirdness of his day was behind him (ha, as _if),_ he found Pumyra pacing- not quite angrily, but her movements were quick and sharp.

_Oh boy... _

Pumyra's head snapped up as he approached.

"Should I be scared?" he asked in jest. "You seem tense."

Ever the reticent, and bad at articulating to the point she'd given up on it, Pumyra grasped his paw and yanked him behind her into the room.

Bengali exclaimed a little at the abruptness.

She let his paw go once they entered and she'd all but used the momentum to sling him onto the edge of the bed. And then, she tucked herself on his lap like a bride, and buried her face into the crook of his neck.

"O-oh, okay. Um. What's this about, Pumyra?" he asked again, wrapping his arms around her.

And then, he heard the purring, and felt the vibrations of her chest as she rumbled softly.

Bengali never did figure out what that impromptu, and slightly terrifying, cuddle session was about.


End file.
